


Thumbing Stones

by astramaxima (shotgunsinlace)



Category: Birb People - Fandom
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:22:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24754699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shotgunsinlace/pseuds/astramaxima
Summary: Sometimes, pressing matters can wait for the sake of taking in nature's wonders.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	Thumbing Stones

**Author's Note:**

> A little gift for Crim! (And a perfect excuse to write more for these two beans!)

“Oh, wisest and most stoic Mage of the sacred lands, answer onto me this burning question,” the prince says, the back of his dainty hand pressed to his sweat-slick forehead, “are we there yet?” He tries not to whine, has tried his hardest to be a good companion throughout their longest trek to date, but the forest is humid and his robes are hardly practical for this kind of trip. 

Normally, they would have stopped for a bite to eat an hour ago, but Pyrr had supplied them a bountiful breakfast alongside a warning: _We need to make good time before the Voyants catch wind of us. Have your fill now, Highness. We’ll likely only stop for water._

He’s more tired than he is hungry, his feet bruised despite the sandals Pyrr took the time to carefully craft for him out of a swath of deer pelt he kept in his den. The foliage keeps the strongest rays of sunlight off them, but it also serves to trap an unpleasant amount of heat in the forest floor. His blond hair sticks to his forehead, and his wings feel heavy at his back.

Ahead of him, Pyrr stops with a hand raised out to his side. It’s a signal for him to listen, one they’ve used during the past couple of days, and the prince immediately feels his shackles raise with sharp trepidation.

They both stand still as stones, letting the hot breeze brush over their skin—and that’s when the prince hears it: a faint rush of something filtered through miles of trees and ambiance. It’s the sound that, were they any closer, could be described as a roar. And now that he’s heard it, the prince flicks his head towards it, his nose picking up on the unmistakable scent.

He perks up, excitement nearly moving his feet without his input, but he graces Pyrr with a look that does not so much ask if it’s safe but pleads for permission.

The mage remains unmoving, listening for potentially obscured threats.

There’s a beat of a moment that is as still as them, before Pyrr nods his head.

The prince darts off in the direction of the sound, joy making him breathless as he narrowly avoids getting his ivory tips caught in a branch. Robes hiked up, deftly dancing around boulders, and avoiding slippery patches of moss, he finally comes face to face with the wondrous source of the sound once the forest opens.

“Curtains of glittering diamonds,” the prince says, uncertain where the words come from or what they mean, but sensing with deep-rooted confidence that no phrase would be more apt.

Before him is nothing short of paradise.

The crystalline pool moves with the impact of the waterfall that dwarfs him, lulled over perfectly polished stones that lay unmoved since creation. The rush of air that accompanies its fierce call is but a cool balm over his overheated skin.

The mage joins him, hovering by his side as he hums appreciatively. “Now, would you look at that.”

“Did you know this would be here?”

“It isn’t in any of my maps.”

“Do you think it’s safe?”

Pyrr blinks at him. “For drinking?”

“No, I mean for bathing. It’s so hot out—just give me five minutes and I promise I won’t complain anymore.”

“The moment you dip a toe in there you will feel so weighed down you won’t want to walk. You’ll ask for a nap, and then for something to eat, and then—”

“Alright, alright, no need to be fussy about it. It was just a question.”

Pyrr takes a long look at him, one that makes the prince shy away, his attention turning back to the clear water. “Stop pouting.”

“I’m not pouting!” The prince feels his feathers ruffle, bringing them tightly to his back as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Submerging your feet does wonders for overall bone health. You’re a mage, you should know this.”

“Exactly, I’m a mage, not a healer. That’s your calling.”

“Then I say we take a quick dip.”

What floats between them isn’t quite tension—nothing as severe as that, but a mild taste of affable annoyance. The prince has gotten used to it, the exasperated eyerolls and the deep sighs. They usually always mean the mage is about to cave in.

“You have ten minutes.”

“Thank you!”

After kicking off his sandals, the prince rushes away again, running across the shallower waters of the plunge pool with a gleeful laugh. He skips over rocks until he reaches knee-deep levels and then stands there, gossamer robes soaked but uncaring as they float around him. His toes sink into the sandy bottom, and he shimmies his heels to stir up a plume of shimmering silt.

The calm the moment brings eases him, anchoring him to his position on the seemingly endless expanse of existence that surrounds everything the breathes. The sound, the smell, the sensations—all coalescing into a vibrantly beautiful image he wishes would engrain itself into his mind’s eye.

With a cleansing sigh, the prince seeks out the mage. “Come on in!”

“Absolutely not,” he answers, circling the pool with his satchel in hand, collecting an assortment of colored crystals growing along its edges. “Someone has to keep an eye out.”

The prince huffs. “At least remove your cloak. Take in the cool breeze.”

“I’ll take off my cloak when you take off your robes.” The mage freezes, realizing a moment too late what it is he’s said. “Wait, that’s not—please, do not take off your robes.”

Warmth graces the prince’s cheeks, touching the tips of his ears and he’s forced to turn away. “I bet you look no better with your cloak off, anyway.”

“What’s that supposed to—no. No, we are not having this argument.”

The prince turns back to him, a sheepish smile gracing his features.

Despite the harmless bickering, he wades back to the rocky shore and sits, legs still submerged, feet adding ripples to the already bubbling pool. The spray is welcome as it sluices down his shoulders, chest, and back, making the white fabric stick to his skin—but he’ll take refreshing water over sweat on any given day.

“Take a look at this, Highness,” Pyrr says, coming down to rest on his haunches beside him, his cloak of dark feathers lightly brushing an exposed shoulder. He holds up what the prince first takes to be a stone but is in fact a crystal, likely smoothed by the rush of water. Its exterior is a dusty pink, shot through with veins of lilac that crackle like dormant lightning. Gold pulses within it when angled just right. “We call it a _dolstogrm_. A trapped storm of gold.”

“It’s beautiful.” The prince holds up a palm, and the crystal is carefully placed on it. He holds it up to the sunlight, watching as its fractured interior comes alive in a radiant burst of color. He’s never seen anything like it. “Will this help? For the Aviarius Memoriae?”

The mage shakes his head, but gently holding the back of the prince’s hand, he closes those long fingers over the dolstogrm. “Keep it. There may be another use for it down the line.”

There’s a groove on the crystal’s surface, one that fits the prince’s thumb quite nicely.

“Your ten minutes are up, by the way. We need to find shelter before it gets dark.”

“And we tip off the Voyants,” the prince says, slipping his thumb-sized storm into the folds of his robes. He makes to get up and dry himself off, but a hand on his shoulder gives him pause. “What is it?”

“We can spare another minute.”

The prince beams at him, scooting to the side to allow him a space to sit on his damp rock.

The mage takes the unspoken invitation with little fuss, folding his legs underneath him to prevent them from getting wet. “Just a minute,” he says again, looking up the waterfall with just the vaguest hint of awe in his eyes.

They deserve a moment’s peace, even if they both end up a little wet in the aftermath.

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi on twitter @ **[astramaxima](https://twitter.com/astramaxima)!**


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